Third person's POV
Tabitha had undergone six rounds of chemotherapy, one every twenty-one days. By the time they were over, half a year had passed.
Each day of these six months had been akin to living in hell for her, with the side effects of chemotherapy permeating every organ.
She was particularly sensitive to cold then. Her hands and feet were perpetually cold. Her legs were weakened, with an excruciating pain in her bones.
Theodora looked at her with heartache, "Tabitha, you've made it through. You've completed all six chemotherapies. You're stronger than most people."
Tabitha lay in bed, weak and dizzy.
She spoke weakly, "Dora, help me outside to see the sunlight. I feel like I've been lying down for ages."
"Sure."
Theodora wheeled her out in a wheelchair. It was now winter here.
The temperature was generally much warmer than in Seattle. Even during the coldest season, the city did not see snow.
The winter sun shone down on her, warm and comforting. Tabitha squinted, raising her hand to block the somewhat dazzling light above her head.
"Tabitha, don't be afraid. All the side effects are normal. As long as you slowly recuperate, being as young as you are with fast cell regeneration and metabolism, within half a year, you'll be way more healthy."
"Half a year..." Tabitha murmured softly. She couldn't wait that long.
Counting the days, her two children were already a year and a half old.
What were one-and-a-half-year-old children like?
They could probably call out "mom" and "dad" and run around everywhere.
As premature babies, she wondered if they were smaller and thinner than other children their age.
Premature babies were not easy to survive. Lucian must have exerted a lot of effort.
When Tabitha was in unbearable pain many times, she would think of the child she once held.
He was such a tiny bundle, curled up in her arms. But sadly, she hadn't been able to kiss him.
Tabitha reached out and traced the outline of a child in the air. It had been too long. She couldn't remember clearly anymore, only vaguely recalling that the child's eyebrows and eyes bore some resemblance to her own.
She was eager to meet her children every day. However, her body grew weaker by the day.
Orson had not recommended the last chemotherapy, but she had implored him, insisting she could endure it. However, the side effects were unprecedentedly severe, leaving her almost incapable of walking.
The good news was that her blood test results showed her values trending towards normal, indicating that the wolfsbane was under control.
After resting for a month and recovering a bit, she could have an MRI to see the details.
Finally, there was hope.
"What's wrong, Tabitha? Do you have something urgent to do?"
In Theodora's eyes, she had no relatives. Apart from resting well, she should have nothing else to do.
But Tabitha would often stare blankly at the sky, like a little bird longing to fly out of its cage.
Once, it was Derek who had restrained her, and now it was her illness.
She couldn't walk a hundred meters on her own.
"I'm just thinking about when I'll get better."
"From what I've seen in those medical cases, the toxins in your body will slowly be metabolized in the first half a year. The sensitivity to cold will gradually improve. Other bodily functions will heal themselves slowly. The first half a year doesn't mean you'll be the same as before. Some side effects can accompany you for three to five years or even longer."
"I know, I just want to walk like a healthy person."
"That's doable. You should be able to after another month of rest."